Wraith
by ShivaVixen
Summary: A serial killer has resurfaced, and the one victim that survived is dead set on facing the killer head on. Even if it costs a life. First Justice league fic, so be nice.
1. Opening

**Prologue**

Central city hummed with life, Day and Night. The Flash did a good job, cleaning up the streets, but recently, with the League business and saving the world, the occasional mugger slipped in.

Normally at night. When it appeared the scarlet speedster wouldn't be able to make it, either with some crisis or something. The criminals in central city were rather smart, in that regard.

Of course, if they were aware of the Flash's alter ego, and where he worked, that might've caused a few to think four times.

The Central Star Bar and Grill was leftover from prohibition. The atmosphere had a touch of each decade, and it was a place most cops went after duty. Even some of the forensic team would come over.

It was also next to a private investigator's office. Well, it was next to an office building and the fourth floor had a P.I., but that's really splitting hairs.

The P.I.'s door had 'L. Walker' written on it, no secretary, and a couple of filing cabinets. It was leased to a 'Leo' Walker. Walker was on fairly good terms with the police station . . . there was only one blue blood detective that didn't like the private eye going over cold cases.

Now, when most people hear the name, 'Leo' it automatically pictures some guy (or a ninja turtle). Which was not true of the woman who owned the office. She was slight, not obviously muscular, reddish brown hair, which was as non-descript as she was in appearance. Her father had desperately wanted a boy, and had decided to ignore the eventual plight of his daughter, naming her Leo. He also proceeded to treat her like a boy, which caused a few problems for her mother, teaching her to be a girl. The end result was a tough girl who tried out for the football team and tended to wear practical shoes, even with evening gowns.

As time went on, Leo found an escape route from being called her name, by coming up with a nickname that most people used.

"Hey, Kit, miss me?" The red head with a trackstar build slid into the booth across from her.

"I saw you yesterday, West. Surprised by your call, though." Kit fixed him with a look. "What's wrong."

"You weren't the only one, Kit." Wally West rolled his shoulder. "We've unearthed two Jane Doe's with his same M.O. One was was buried alive."

"Damn." She hissed, if anyone had paid attention to the two, they would have seen her flicker, and turn transparent. "So much for hope, apparently."

"Easy Kit." She regained control. "We're hoping you're the last. But . . ."

"What are the odds he only kills three people?" She sighed. "You owe me a beer."

"I know. Try to keep it low key?"

"Always."

**Me no own Justice League or DC comics . . . I'm just taking them for a spin.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Still don't own Justice league . . . and this chapter might be a bit short and have more questions than answers . . . I'm working on it. (COnstructive criticism greatly appreciated, and if someone has a real good idea, I'll even change this chapter, okay?)**

**Chapter 1**

Past

_Kit Walker, Central City P.I. hit the ground running. She wasn't sure what was behind her, but whatever it was hadn't been fazed by a bullet to its head. Someone grabbed her hair and yanked her back, a sweet smelling cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth._

"_Nighty-night, sweetheart." The world grayed out, then everything went black._

Present

Kit sighed as she stared at the police line tape, absently adjusting the bill on her black baseball cap, her preferred type of hat. Her hair stuck out the back hole as a ponytail. The crime scene wasn't going to yield much, even if they'd blocked it off, the body and everything else was gone, but there was the hole slash grave. The park on the edge of Central was a nice place, a small pond with bright colored fish, and perfect green grass with flowers in neat bunches, a far cry from where she had grown up, deep in the heart of Gotham City. Even the slums of central seemed to have a better outlook . . . though that didn't mean they weren't as dangerous. She absently rubbed her shoulder where some idiot with a bat had hit her. That had taken a while to heal up.

"Figures you'd be here." A voice growled. She just smiled.

"Sorry if I'm playing in your sandbox, but since you couldn't find him the last time . . ." She glanced at the Detective. He had gray hair, a mustache, and could've (and had) passed as Santa if he had a beard. He just scowled at her.

"You've got the entire CCPD wrapped around your hand."

"Not the entire CCPD." She glanced back at the impromptu grave. "I wasn't the first one he killed, was I?"

"Surprised West didn't spill everything to you."

"He respects you too much. Answer, please."

"Near as we can tell, this one was a year before you. The one that was buried alive . . . she was maybe a month."

"He was getting reckless."

"Probably just started to enjoy it more. First kill is the hardest."

"Not for some people."

"Some people are just insane."

"On that we agree, Detective Southworth." She sighed. "Still considered a cold case?"

"There's nothing other than the way they died connecting them, so as far as the chief's concerned it's still cold."

"And my playground?" She grinned.

"Unfortunately. Try not to get yourself killed, this time."

"I won't." Kit waited for him to leave, before staring harder at the site. She had died for four minutes at the site. The Flash had resuscitated her just as the paramedics arrived, and she had been touch and go for a week before she had stabilized. No brain damage . . . except for a sudden odd ability to see dead people walking around and communicate with them. That had been annoying at the hospital, since she was never sure if she was talking to a real nurse or a ghost of one. Flash had been amused, he had teased her for weeks, both as West and the Flash. Then she had told him she could convince a couple of them to harass him for a while, and that got him to shut up quick.

There were no ghosts at the site. Well, no human ones. There was a squirrel that was obsessed with finding his nut that he had buried, which had probably grown into the tree he kept disappearing into. Kit shook her head with a smile as she turned to walk to the next site.

This one was a bit more . . . upsetting. The woman had been buried in a construction site for the current warehouse, and the killer had moved a metal grid and plastic over her grave. She had tried to dig herself out, but had found the metal and plastic impossible to move, and had possibly suffocated to death, just before workers poured on the cement. Just recently, they had been re-working the foundations, and found the jane doe. Kit just stared emotionlessly at the big padlocked doors of the warehouse.

She had two ways of doing this. She could go to the CCPD and get the key, or she could use talent number 2 that came from her dying.

With no one in sight, she turned transparent, and walked right through the door. She still didn't know why she could do that, but it did come in handy . . . especially when she locked her keys in her apartment.

She stared at the hole in the ground, an icy feeling in her stomach. There should have been a ghost. Even if it was just a memory loop of the woman trying to escape the hole . . . there should have been something of her left. But there wasn't. As if she hadn't existed.

Turning to leave, she debated her options. She could look into séances, but that just seemed more trouble than it was worth and the odds of her finding a real medium and not some chiseler, even in Central, was slim to none. So that just left her doing something really stupid and talking to whatever criminal she could find. Particularly someone without a penchant for freezing people or smashing them with boomerangs. Or anything with mirrors and music. _Maybe the Trickster? I think he's in jail still . . . yeah, that would be good. First I gotta check the morgue._

"Well, if it isn't our favorite cold case detective." The woman in charge smiled. It was a slightly icy one, but it was better than the stare she use to get. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Two Jane Doe's found recently." She just received a file. "West got to you, didn't he?"

"And Detective Southworth, you've got quite a pair wanting to help you." With that she left Kit with the drawers. Silently she pulled them out.

"Years later and you still have skin." She muttered, staring at the one that had been found in the park. "You weren't even wrapped in plastic, like the other." Something about them made her uneasy, so she silently slid the drawers closed again. "And your ghosts aren't near your bodies, either . . ." Leaning against the wall, she opened the file. Both had traces of cholorform, even years later, which should've been near impossible, the outside skin was intact, but inside has decayed, extremely. No signs of rape, so there was absolutely nothing to go on. "Damn." Kit closed the file, and continued on out. Now she had to start talking to the underworld. West was gonna have a fit if he found out. Keyword: if.

Lucky her, Flash was helping with an earthquake.

"You sure you want to talk to him? He's kinda, odd." She just gave the guard a look as they walked down the cell block of the maxium/asylum for some of Central's rogues. "Just asking, Miss." They stopped at a cell that had cartoons blaring. Kit recognized the sound of the roadrunner. "James, you got a visitor." The guard knocked on the door.

"Hang on a minute!" The voice was followed by a few shuffling noises. "Okay, I'm presentable!" Kit just raised her eyebrow as the guard opened the door, but then went in.

"Knock on the door when you're done."

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The trickster smiled at her from where he was sitting. "Normally I just get doctors."

"Regretfully, I'm not here for a pleasant chat." Kit sat in a chair. "I'm a private investigator, and I need some underworld information."

"Hm, well, I can't sell out some of the other rogues, kinda makes our monthly group meetings tense."

"I don't think this is a guy from central. It's also a couple years ago."

"Ah. Ask away then."

"I'm looking for a serial killer . . . had a skull mask, killed several women. Have you heard anything about him?"

" . . . A few years is a long time, my memory's not great. You'd have to ask Captain Boomerang or Captain Cold, they keep a sharp eye on who comes and goes."

"Know where they are?"

"You're going to talk to them?!"

"The killer has killed two women in central, and he almost killed me. I'm going to find him one way or another." Trickster just blinked, then nodded.

"Kinda young to be set on revenge, aren't you?"

"Death does that to a person." Kit stood. She wasn't going to get anything from this guy. "Thanks for your time."

"Whoa, hold up. I'll tell you where they are, but . . . you have to do me a favor." Kit watched as he quickly pulled a box from under his bed. "Can you deliver this to the Flash? It's not dangerous or deadly or anything, I swear, but I need to give it to him." As he handed her the box, he slipped a key into her hand. "Just be careful, don't comment on the captains' recent failures, and the key has the name of the bar, okay?" He quickly whispered. "Don't tell them you got it from me." She just nodded. "Stop by anytime I'm here, I like talking to people."

"Yeah, he talks to anyone who will listen." The guard muttered, glancing at the box. "Get what you wanted?"

"Somewhat . . ." It took her a few minutes to drop it off at West's mini office in the forensics department. That way he could go through any surprises there. Then she glanced at the key. "This ought to be fun." '_The Flash is going to throw a fit.'_


End file.
